


i married in the sun

by ts_smelliot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), bucky's not so great at romance anymore, repressed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23419702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ts_smelliot/pseuds/ts_smelliot
Summary: They get married on a Tuesday.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 75





	i married in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> A big ol' shoutout to [ flowermasters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowermasters/pseuds/flowermasters) for letting me steal her prompt and run with it

They get married on a Tuesday. 

Bucky ambles into the kitchen while Sam is drinking his morning coffee, and pours himself a cup. His hair is still wet from the shower, dripping down the back of his neck into the collar of his undershirt. He’s wearing slacks—or dress pants, as Sam keeps telling him people in this century call them—which Sam only registers because it’s odd.

“Say,” Bucky says, splashing some cream into his mug, “you fancy getting married today?”

Sam chokes on his coffee.

“Easy sweetheart,” Bucky says, as he leans back against the counter and takes a sip. He watches Sam carefully over the top of his mug.

“What,” Sam says, once he finally gets his breath back.

“You wanna get married?” Bucky repeats.

“Now?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sure.” He points down at his pants. “'M already dressed for it.”

Sam opens his mouth. Closes it again. He’s waiting for Bucky to explain himself, maybe elaborate on his thought process a little, but Bucky doesn’t add anything else. He just pops a couple pieces of bread into the toaster, whistling while he’s at it. 

“You want a slice?” he asks, gesturing towards the toaster with a butter knife.

“What the fuck.”

“Of toast,” Bucky clarifies.

Sam splutters. “We can’t just _get_ _married_.”

“Why not?”

There are a thousand reasons why not. “Well, for starters, we haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Alright,” Bucky agrees, “so we’re talkin’ about it. What else?”

“My family? I can’t just get married without telling them. My mama would kill me, Barnes.”

“So we bring ‘er along,” Bucky says, like it’s obvious. “We’re gonna need witnesses.”

_Jesus_. Sam cannot believe they’re having this conversation at eight in the morning. He tries to get his bearings, get all his thoughts in a row so he can approach this with some goddamn sense, since Bucky seems determined not to.

This is how they plan their missions. Sam recognizes the process: Bucky will make some dumbass suggestion, and then Sam has to spend the rest of the day going through each and every possibility methodically, trying to find any reason not to go along with Bucky’s scheme. Nine times out of ten they do anyways, but Sam likes to eliminate every other option in his head first. Bucky gets it, he’s usually content to entertain Sam as his brain goes in circles. It’s what he's doing right now.

“Uh.” Sam stalls, trying to buy some time so he can actually _think_ about this. “You know there are logistics to this, right? Like wait times.”

“Not in Rhode Island,” Bucky counters. He’s acting casual, but his gaze is sharp. This is something he wants, badly.

“Rhode Island,” Sam repeats.

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. “Only three hours away. We leave in an hour or so, get there ‘round noon, we’re home before dark. There’s your logistics.” He takes a triumphant sip of coffee.

“Huh.” 

Sam drums his fingers on the table. Bucky’s calm is making him nervous, so focused and straightforward in the face of something so huge. He’s already thought this all through, Sam realizes with a start, and he’s not sure what to do with that. He decides to cut to the chase. “Why, Buck?”

Bucky looks down then, his gaze fixed on the counter as he runs his finger through a small puddle of water next to the sink. “Because I love you,” he says, still not meeting Sam’s eye. “And I just. With everything that’s happening. Everything that _has_ happened.” He takes a big breath. “I’d just really like a piece of paper with both our names on it, is all.” He looks up then, his face hopeful and so, so honest. 

_Oh_. That’s something Sam can understand. They might be at home, but they’ve never stopped being at war.

He swallows. His mouth is dry. He's rapidly running out of arguments. “What about rings?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Already got ‘em.” He dips a hand into his pocket, and Sam can hear the faint jingling as Bucky rustles around in there. He pulls out a pair of matching gold bands, holds them up proudly in his palm for Sam to inspect. They look used; he must’ve gotten them from a pawn shop. The gold is scuffed and worn thin in places. It’s not exactly the grand proposal Sam was expecting. 

Then again, he doesn’t exactly know _what_ he was expecting, with Bucky.

Sam eyes the smaller of the two and slips it onto the third finger of his left hand. Just to try it on for size. It doesn’t actually look that bad: the battered metal gleaming dully against his dark skin. It’s like looking at his father’s hand. Just a simple gold band nestled between big knuckles and old callouses, the faded scar on his left pinkie. Sam has to blink back tears, suddenly.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “It’s. I love it.”

Bucky flashes him a quick smile and nods, curt and pleased. “Thought it might do,” he says simply.

The toast pops, and the sound is too loud in the silence of the room, but neither of them makes a move to get it.

“Alright,” Sam says finally, his voice breaking. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Only if you want to.” Bucky reaches out with his prosthetic and takes Sam’s hand, running his metal thumb over the wedding band, and they clink together quietly. It’s a good sound. A home kind of sound.

“I want to,” Sam tells him. “I’m sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> come hang with me on [ tumblr](https://unclesmelliot.tumblr.com/)


End file.
